Layers
by Foxieglove
Summary: On the road to rescue DG and Raw from the Witch, Glitch fears he has lost Cain's respect. Cain proves otherwise.


-1Buckles. Of course, it had to be buckles. Glitch made a face, generally cursing the fashion sense - or apparent lack of - whoever had designed Longcoat uniforms and all their amazingly frustrating layers of _crap_.

Buckles were just as complex as buttons if not worse, and of course he couldn't help but be flummoxed by pulling the tight leather straps through the metal hoop. Did it go under or over first? And the ones in the back - how the name of all the elements could he tighten them if he couldn't bloody _see_ them? The smell of leather was nauseating to him and flattering as the black and gray colors looked, he resented putting on the hard-won garments.

Of course, he'd liked the act of winning them. He'd enjoyed putting that look on the Tin Man's face. It was an enjoyment that soon faded however, as he imagined the look there now.

Some great warrior he made, not even able to manage the simple task of putting on a Longcoat uniform. For heavens sake, it was only by the grace of the gods he'd managed to get the pants done up! Cain had stopped adjusting the coat on his shoulders - a bit tight under the arms but there was little either of them could do about it - and was watching him.

Glitch avoided his gaze, knowing the Tin Man had been finished with his disguise change for several minutes past. The shock and amazement had probably given place to something else - amusement perhaps, or pity. Or annoyance that he was wasting precious time.

Fumbling still with the buckle on his left sleeve, he suddenly realized that the painstakingly closed-buttons on his black under shirt were mismatched entirely. That would explain the uncomfortable uneven-ness. Glitch dropped his hands in defeat, straps of the coat sleeve dangling pathetically and in danger of losing his temper (and perhaps even more of his dignity if that were possible).

He fought to keep the sting behind his eyes from amounting to anything, not even when the crunch of footsteps ended with Cain standing before him. Glitch refused to meet his gaze as the lawman gently lifted his own arm, resting it on the broad shoulder. His hand went to Glitch's chest, undoing the buttons with one hand, down to where it was half-tucked into his waistband. When he spoke, it almost made Glitch jump.

"You're going to teach me those moves someday. Reminds me of a style I saw once - while on circuit," Cain was saying, as though it was nothing that he was straightening Glitch's clothing for him. Glitch frowned, still refusing to see what expression waited on Cain's face.

"You sure you want to learn that from me?" he asked, bitterness welling up in his voice. "You might find a better teacher Underground."

"That where you learned? Some parts did look a bit dodgy," Wyatt admitted. He smoothed the creases out of Glitch's shirt absently.

"They aren't," Glitch muttered, though inwardly he was pleased. He'd invented the style, not learned it, and while it was effective, had always wondered if others found it prissy and over-decorative. To hear that a Tin Man found aspects of low-down street-fighting in it . . . especially this Tin Man . . .

Glitch didn't let himself smirk, not when he knew Cain might be saying that to make him feel less of an idiot for not knowing how to do up a coat. Glitch was no fool.

After a moment, Cain lowered his arm and Glitch found that his straps had been done up, his buttons righted, and the rest of his shirt tucked in. Wyatt's hand still fiddled with his collar and dreading what he'd see, Glitch finally glanced up.

He saw respect. Respect. Something he hadn't seen on friend or foe, not since he'd gotten a vacancy sign where a mind should be. Cain smirked at him and gave his coat a light tug in his direction. "Come on, Glitch. Let's cut out before anyone else asks you to waltz with them."

Glitch stammered in response as Wyatt turned, walking away toward the palace. He was quick to take his place beside Cain, wondering of his coat was making the same impressive flare as the Tin Man's and whether doing the buckles right had anything to do with it.

"It's not exactly a waltz. That style requires a partner I believe," Glitch corrected, though mostly he was mumbling to himself in a state of shock. Cain slung a friendly arm around his shoulders.

"You've got one now, remember? So like I said, you'll have to show me."

Glitch looked at him again and grinned in pleasant surprise. Apparently, not everything had to be complex.


End file.
